


In Dreams

by darkuponlight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cousin Incest, Death, Dreams, F/M, Future Fic, Half-Sibling Incest, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:06:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4434860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkuponlight/pseuds/darkuponlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the war against the Others rages on, Jon has a dream of Arya one night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this fic was a little difficult. I'm not quite sure whether the 'visions' translate as smoothly on page as it did in my head. However, I gave it my best shot, so be gentle...please lol. The fic takes place after Jon is brought back to life from Melissandre and the war with the Others is still at play, but essentially, it's a 'porn without plot' type of story. Darn. I swear I initially tried to actually write a coherent plot driven fic haha

 

Some little time after I had been brought back from the silent finality of death, I had a dream. My nights have been plagued by dreams of loss and regret, dreams of sorrow and rage, dreams of ice and fire. Some of the dreams are fragmented and odd, others amazingly clear and vivid. This particular night, I dreamt of Arya.  
  
I dreamed that I was in a vast field of snow and could see Winterfell in the distance. I recognized the walls...the smell of the air. There were several things strange about this. The first is that a dragon sat perched on top the castle, staring at me. Another is that Arya appeared with Nymeria at her side and a pack of wolves following. Arya is making her way towards me. Arya who as far as I know, is… _dead_. This is an Arya whom I had not yet met. This Arya is not a little girl, she is strangely ethereal and graceful, but the way she carries herself is unmistakably one of a warrior. Her long face and grey eyes are beautiful, she is _beautiful_.  
  
I am watching, enthralled, the sun shimmers on the snow, when Arya takes my hand and says, 'So, you see, Jon, all is not lost to you. And see...the sun dancing there on the snow. Winter is almost over."   
  
I don't understand what she means, this woman who is so familiar yet so strange. I tear my eyes from the sunlight and, temporarily blinded, I look to where I hear Arya’s voice calling to me. I feel her hand squeezing mine. The blindness leaves my eyes and I focus in upon her. Arya. Gods, is she not beautiful? And yet, her face was always dirty. She takes my hand and begins pulling me toward the castle, away from the crumbling Wall which had been mine to command.  _Knives in the dark._  
  
I smile at her.   
  
"The Wall is that way” I say  
  
Arya smiles at me, her grey eyes dancing.   
  
"You are mistaken, Jon” she says, chuckling, "That was your old life. We have a new life to build, you and I, and we will take from each other all that has brought us pain."   
  
Staring at her, I am strangely unable to speak. We continue walking and watch the sun sinking slowly until the sky has turned to a deep violet with the first stars showing. I see that we are no longer surrounded by snow. As is the way of dreams, the scene shifts seamlessly and I am in a large and dimly lit chamber. It seems familiar...as though it will be familiar. I can sense that Arya is nearby. It is warm in the room, extremely warm. I slip my coat off and drop it carelessly on the floor. I can hear rustling and movement in the doorway.   
  
"Jon? I've been waiting for you. Where have you been?”  
  
Following the voice, I enter the bedroom chambers, in the corner there stands a huge bed, swathed in mosquito netting, and behind it I can see Arya, gauzy and indistinct. She is sitting in the bed, naked, her skin glowing and beautiful. Her grey eyes are luminous as she reaches a hand to me. I take off my boots, one and then another, my eyes never leaving her. I undo my shirt. Parting the netting, I kneel at the foot of the bed. I hear a single sigh escape Arya's full, sweet lips and she smiles as she feels my weight shift the bed.

* * *

In this dream, I can feel with exquisite clarity and slowness, Arya's hands on me, one around my waist drawing me down upon her, the other, tangling with a sort of painful familiarity into my hair. Her hand leaves my waist and tugs my loosened shirt over one of my shoulders. I can smell her. I can smell her salty scent. I can smell the sweet tang of her, the sweat that bathes her lean, long body. In this dream I say all the right things. 

  
When our lips finally meet, I can feel her shuddering beneath me, I can taste the sweetness of her. I can feel how much she wants me...how much she loves me. In my dream the sweetness of this, the idea that she loves me in this way, and that she wishes to stay with me, it's like a dream within this dream. I feel her core warm and pressed tight against me. In the dream I am eager to penetrate her, I want to be inside of her. I want to be close to her, to make her mine. I don't yet understand that she is mine already.  
  
Arya is so pliant beneath me, and I am suddenly naked and ready. Her body is accepting, eager. She wants me, she begs me not to hold back from her. Although she is begging me with her words, it is I who am enslaved. I always have been. She may have been my sister once, perhaps she still is, but there is no one on earth who has captured my heart and held it the way that Arya has. No one who I trust as I do her. I no longer question this, _it just is_.   
  
But the dream. In the dream I slide into her easily because I belong there, she gasps, yes, her body arches, there is pain. But it's that beautiful pain, that pain you wait for with the one you love. I know this now. Dreaming, I am taking her body, and causing her to breathe in great, ragged gasps. Her hands clutch at me, her fingers dig into my aching flesh. In the dream I am worried that I may hurt her with my eagerness. I don't however. If anyone is hurt, it is me, my soul yearning so urgently toward her, fearing that she will be terrified by me, repulsed by me, somehow unable to tolerate me.   
  
As I hilt myself into her in the dream, she is moaning my name, chanting it nearly. She is so wonderfully tight around me, her flesh so hot that I have no words. I have my hands on her hips and I draw her up to me. She winds herself around me as tightly as she is able to, clinging to me, her mouth sealed to mine. She tastes sweet, her tongue twining with mine, pushing deeply into my mouth as I thrust into her. I reach between us, touching her pulsing core, marveling at the silky, heated feel of her flesh.

Her legs, wound around my hips, loosen a little to give me room. I break our kiss to look at her. Her eyes are dazed, her mouth open slightly as she pants. Her body is slick and gleaming with sweat, muscles sculpted in taut lines. She is so achingly beautiful that my breath is taken. I rub her, strong pressure on her in time with my thrusting hips. Her breathing becomes more erratic and I know her climax is near. Her deep moaning has stirred my lust further...I fear I am hurting her with my free hand, clutching her too hard against me. She seems not to notice, her head rolling helplessly now as she comes over my cock, her walls clenching and milking me. Tears in her gleaming eyes, and then it's me, my orgasm fierce as I spill inside of her, my little sister… _my lover._  
  
I start awake in my cold bed, sleep having released me as I had my release in the dream. I can smell my own sweat, my body is still shuddering. I shut my eyes tightly, this is a first for me since I was brought back. I felt as though Arya should be here with me, so real had it been. I got up and cleaned myself off, still shaking. I changed my clothes and stared out at the snow. 

_Sometimes different roads lead to the same castle_


End file.
